


The Saga of Geraldine

by ProtoChan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Family, Family Bonding, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Family Secrets, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy Ending, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 13:21:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13571412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProtoChan/pseuds/ProtoChan
Summary: All kids have imaginary friends, and Alice is certainly no exception. Follow Killian as he takes us through the life and times of his wonderful daughter’s invisible invitee.





	The Saga of Geraldine

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Here’s a little piece of Knight Rook fluff/angst/comfort that hit me last week like a truck to the face! Also, SERIOUS credit to @killianmesmalls for her inspiring a certain aspect of this fic.

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Children had imaginary friends. It made sense Alice would too. Honestly, looking back, Killian would’ve been surprised if she didn’t, especially given her unique situation.

Geraldine was her name, and according to Alice, she was a white rabbit the size of a bear.

This also made sense. The first stories he read to Alice were about the adventures of fictional animals. Books with them were affordable, filled with beautiful pictures that could take her to the lushest of forests, deepest of oceans, and coldest of tundras, and were practically guaranteed to be child friendly, so Killian bought them for Alice as often as he could. When he read those stories, two creatures tended to stick out the most to his sole audience member: Rabbits and bears. Alice loved how the pictures in her books made rabbits look so soft. Bears, she adored for their strength and size. Alice, for as sweet as she was, was equal parts tough and strong as well. During the occasional tickle fight, Killian wouldn’t be shocked to find himself tackled or otherwise sore by the end of it.

Because of that, Geraldine had the appearance of the gentlest of bunnies (She described Geraldine as the “cuddliest friend on Earth”) and at the same time was fluffy and well-built enough that she could withstand her daughter’s wrath with ease.

Killian immediately realized what Geraldine was when they were introduced, and never for a second had any intention of taking this friend away from Alice. So, when asked to play along in her little game, no matter how small or large a role it required, he was more than happy to oblige. He often invited Geraldine to stay for dinner, cutting half of his own food to make a little portion for her, only eating the partial portion when Alice was well and fully asleep. When asked to cuddle with them, Killian would pretend Geraldine’s fur was softer than silk.

This also meant being creative when his daughter tried to use her friend for less than innocent purposes. One time, Alice, while he was out on a supply run, had broken a porcelain candle holder that sat by her bed, and when it came time to press her about the subject, she had blamed Geraldine. Killian, after a short period of deliberation, decided that as punishment, there would be no sweets after dinner for either of the girls, and while Alice pouted, justice had ultimately been served.

Through good days and bad, Geraldine served the part of making Alice’s childhood just a little less lonely, and she did it well.

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“Papa!” Alice called, her tone clearly distressed.

It had been a fairly normal and carefree day. Killian, who had been relaxing on his armchair, half-asleep, sprung to life, taking a swordsman’s stance.

He looked around the room until he spotted his daughter. Alice, hardly a month past seven years, looked so panicked. She was jittering and her eyes were begging for help.

“What’s going on, Alice?” he asked, approaching her.

She gestured for him to lower to her level. When she was able to reach his ear, she cuffed her tiny hands around it and leaned in.

“It’s Geraldine’s birthday, and I didn’t get her a present!” Alice loudly whispered.

Killian went through a flurry of emotions over the course of five seconds. In order, they were shock, frustration, annoyance, and relief.

“Alice, my love. You shouldn’t scare me like that.” Alice guiltily looked down to her feet.

“I’m sorry, Papa. I just didn’t want to let her down.”

Her remorse clear, Killian was quick to forgive her. “It’s alright, my love.”

The question now put itself out there: What were they to get an imaginary friend for their birthday?

Fortunately, if life had blessed Killian with anything, it was the ability to think quicker than the very ship he gave up to be here.

“Where is Geraldine?” Alice slightly gestured her head backwards and to the side. He gave her a grin. “I’ve just the thing.” His daughter released a hushed squee and hugged him fiercely. “Shall we go over there and give it to her?” Alice nodded, and the two went over to the spot she pointed out.

“Hello Geraldine, and Happy Birthday!” Killian said to the open air.

“Papa,” Alice called. “We’re down here on the bed.” Killian chuckled, and turned accordingly.

“My apologies, girls.” Killian continued. “Well, as previously said, Happy Birthday, Geraldine. For this year, Alice and I have come up with a little song for you, one I will now sing.”

Once again, Alice squealed in delight.

Killian knew two things to be undeniable truths. The first thing was that he was quite the wordsmith. The second was that if his baby girl loved anything in this world, it was hearing her Papa sing.

“I call this “The Saga of Geraldine.”” Killian began tapping his toe to get a feel for the rhythm that the song required, and once he had it settled, he started clapping to the beat too. The end result was very much like the sea shanties he grew up hearing.

_Geraldine, Geraldine_  
_A friend like you has never been seen_  
_You’re always nice, not ever mean  
_ _So we sing of the saga of Geraldine_

By the end of the first verse, Alice was doubled over in laughter. It was times like these where Killian was happy that it was just the two of them up here. He was pretty sure he’d be eternally red if anyone outside of this tower ever learned that he had sung a song for an imaginary bear-sized rabbit.

_Geraldine, Geraldine_  
_Your fur has the prettiest sheen_  
_And you’re so damn tall, it’s almost obscene  
_ _But we still sing the saga of Geraldine_

“Papa, language!” Alice playfully scolded. Killian had accidentally swore in front of her quite a few times, but always walked back on them and told her not to use such language. Alice always giggled when he dropped a swear word, and after a while, it became a joke between the two of them.

Killian, still keeping the beat, stuck his tongue out at his daughter just before continuing, much to her amusement.

_Geraldine, Geraldine_  
_You’re the best friend to my little queen_  
_You make her laugh ‘till she hurts her spleen  
_ _That’s why we made the saga of Geraldineeeeeeeee!_

As he held out that last elongated note, Killian smiled at himself. Not only had he come up with a song, practically on the spot, but had managed to give it a big finish. Alice certainly appreciated it. She was on her side, laughing so hard that Killian was worried she might lose her voice or her breath if she didn’t stop soon.

Of course, an encore was demanded, and then an encore after that. By that evening, Alice had the song down by heart. Killian would later be tempted to wish himself deaf after a few days of the song, but Alice’s smile was worth its annoying catchiness one hundred and twelve times over and then some.

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It was only when Alice was eight that her grandest illusion was finally destroyed.

“Geraldine’s not real, is she, Papa?” Killian, after getting over the shock of the question itself, bit his lip. He knew this day was coming, and he knew no matter what, it would be a hard one. It would be the final farewell to the closest thing that Alice could call a friend in this cursed life she’d been unfairly saddled with.

“W-what makes you say that?” He knew he couldn’t stop the truth from hammering down, but he wanted to understand why it was happening. He had still played along with the idea of Geraldine just as he had since she first appeared in his and Alice’s lives.

Alice was now blubbering. “I-I don’t see her the way I used to. It used to be that she was just there. Now, I have to squint and focus to make her appear, and it’s just harder and I realize…”

Killian bent down onto his knees so that he was at her eye level. He placed his hand on her shoulder. “What was it you realized, darling?”

“I don’t have to do that with you.” Alice answered. “When I want Geraldine to go away, I can just make her go away, but I can’t with you. You’re always here, and I don’t have to make you be here. When you’re mean or bossy, you’re still here with me.”

For a moment, Killian simply marveled at how perceptive his girl was. Her mental state for someone imprisoned for so long was impressive. Her childlike imagination was as strong as any others, but when the time came to admit that dreams were dreams, she was able to do it.

And now he had to play his part in laying them to rest.

Killian didn’t want to do this. It was like telling a child that Santa didn’t exist (He himself then realized that that would be a sad confession for another day).

Just before he was about to fully end things, to tell her once and for all that Geraldine wasn’t real, he asked himself: Did he need to?

Well, of course he needed to. He wasn’t about to open the door to something unhealthy like prolonging the inevitable, especially when she had mostly reached the conclusion on her own.

However, there was another angle to take, one that would still honor all that Geraldine had been to Alice, and one that wouldn’t leave her feeling bare.

“Alice, Geraldine isn’t a creature made of flesh or fur or hair or bones like you and I,” Killian admitted softly. “But she is real. She’s the adventures you went on. She’s the stories you told her. She’s tea parties and cookie jar raids and tickle fights. She’s memories. Do you understand?” Alice nodded, though she still looked confused and worse, sad. “Everything that you two shared, all that time. Geraldine by herself might not be real, but that all is.”

A smile, now only a touch sad appeared upon his daughter’s face. Killian pulled her in for a hug. She was still crying - he could feel it through his shirt, but he knew that when the hug ended that she had accepted the story as best as she could. He offered her a handkerchief from out of his pocket, and she took it, releasing a few wayward tears. For a while they sat there, remembering and practically playing mourning to the friend who while, not gone forever, would cease being a constant in their lives.

After a tearful reprise of “The Saga of Geraldine,” Alice’s stomach started to rumble.

“How about some lunch?” Alice smiled, her fingers using his handkerchief to wipe the remaining tears away.

“Can I have an orange marmalade sandwich?” she requested, as sweetly as the preservative she desired.

Killian once again bit his lip as he was poised to deal with yet another difficult situation.

“Actually,” Killian said, slowly and awkwardly. “We’re all out of marmalade.”

“What?” Alice asked, her tone incredulous. “You just got a full jar last week!” Killian could see Alice studying her. “Papa, did you eat it?”

His cheeks reddened. “N-no,” he muttered.

Alice raised an eyebrow and folded her arms. “Then who did?”

Killian suddenly felt quite nervous. Heat flushed his cheeks.

He found that he could only squeak one thing: “Geraldine?”

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“Tilly, what’s that you’re humming?”

Rogers and Tilly were in the midst of their weekly round of chess. Rogers had just secured her knight and while deciding her next move, she started humming. She often hummed when they played, as if to play up her own confidence in her victory. However, something about this song that now buzzed through the air struck him as familiar.

Tilly bit her cheek. “You know, I don’t remember. Song just came to me, as they usually do. Want me to stop?”

While he couldn’t explain why, Rogers shook his head. “No, don’t. I like it, and it helps you concentrate. Besides, you’ll need all the help you want to beat me.”

An expression as crazy as a fox appeared on the face of his young friend. “Don’t underestimate me, detective.”

“Wouldn’t for a second,” Rogers answered as he welcomed back her joyous hum.


End file.
